For John Daniel ’70, who roomed in Old Dorm Block during the 1960s, the
building was a godsend. “I was lucky to have my first home-away-from-home within that
traditional brick and stonework,” he says. “It felt substantial, which was important
because I was nothing very substantial myself.”

Such musings wouldn’t surprise Lena Lencek, who teaches Russian history and literature
at Reed. Addressing the college’s board of trustees on the master plan, she remarked: “Every
fragment of the campus setting is Proustian madeleine for someone: a repository of memories
and associations.”

But while memories and associations may have significance for individuals who once lived and
learned on campus, it doesn’t follow that all buildings and spaces are architecturally
equal. The Heritage Master Plan was developed to help guide the college’s physical growth,
and its authors looked critically at Reed’s resources before offering recommendations
about which buildings might be adaptively reused, which act as architectural signatures for
the college.

In the end, the recommendations and rankings require nothing more of Reed’s policymakers
than that they carefully consider certain buildings during phases of redevelopment. Diane Gumz,
Reed’s director of corporate and foundation support and a member of the heritage plan
committee, provides an example: “If a new building had to be constructed and there were
a choice between building it on open space or having to replace the psych building, maybe it’d
be better to put it on the open space.”

Gragg, for one, applauds the college’s efforts, particularly for its recognition
of the more recent past. “To give Modernist-era buildings their due in a historic
preservation plan shows great leadership,” he says. But even he acknowledges the
plan’s flexibility. “These guys were Modernists. Their philosophy was one
of reinvention. Their buildings should be modified and added to as new times and programmatic
needs necessitate.”

Cielo Lutino ’94 is a former city planner in Portland.

Location, location, location

Glass, steel, brick, and mortar are only part of any campus landscape. There’s
also, well, the landscape. Reed’s natural features figure as prominently in the
Heritage Master Plan as its man-made structures, with the great lawn and Reed canyon
receiving landmark status, along with Eliot Hall and Old Dorm Block. Irene Bowers,
a member of the landscape architecture team at Mayer/Reed, says: “A unique aspect
of Reed is the very soft residential edge of its front lawn that responds to the residential
edge of Eastmoreland—much more park-like than campus-like.”

Bowers also highlights a campus feature with broader significance: Reed canyon. “It’s
very important to the city watershed areas,” she says. “It has one of the
few remaining spring-fed lakes around here.”

The canyon’s contribution to Portland’s natural habitat is valuable;
its benefits to Reedies may be incalculable. Its woodsy offerings can be a welcome
reprieve—even a refuge—for students. Abby Bridge ’93 had just such
an experience there. “I spent about two weeks camping in the canyon when I was
between houses at the beginning of my sophomore year,” she recalls. “I’m
not sure if that’s the sort of thing the school wants to hear about!”

Reedies necessarily develop an intimate relationship with physical features of the
campus that will never be called out in a preservationist’s ranking. “The
smoking benches outside the library,” Michael Kim ’95 offers.
“The places I remember most are the areas that encouraged social encounters.
When I think of the Reedies I still know in New York City, they’re the ones I
met while smoking on those benches.”

Lauren Gitlen ’98 harbors affection for another personal landmark: a metal
grate outside Eliot Hall. “Some of my fondest Reed memories involve the heat
vent, the mysterious forced air that provided a rain-free, warm, outdoor meeting spot
on the main quad. Where did that hot air come from?”